


Warmth Inside

by Jules_In_Neverland



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M, romantic smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 10:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15556032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jules_In_Neverland/pseuds/Jules_In_Neverland
Summary: Strike and Robin have their first time together, sweet Christmas lovemaking. Or the Corobin romantic sweet smut we all needed.





	Warmth Inside

****

2011's fall was the rainiest Strike could remember. It was cold, freezing cold, as Christmas approached and Robin's marriage fell apart, just like his relationship with Elin. The last straw had been the day Robin arrived home in a state of glee and cheerfulness due to the finished contract that sealed hers and Strike's full partnership, and Matthew had exploded in rage and accused her of cheating, stating that now she would have the perfect excuse to stay there fucking Strike all the time. It had been too much for Robin, who then, asked for a divorce.

Strike was there as her best friend through the storm, the cries that brought them closer and diluted the barriers of their friendship, the loneliness, the broken heart. Ilsa helped Robin with the legal part. And before they noticed, Strike and Robin were dating. It happened so slowly and naturally, they almost didn't realise, but then they were kissing here and there, having dates... It wasn't hot, sexual and rushed, like their previous experiences, but slow and insanely romantic, like a friendship who had gotten very intimate, sweet and charming, turning into romance. No sex happened. No rush. They just focused in making each other feel an intensity of things and care they had never known, with letters, notes, glances, smiles. Slowly, they put each other back together, went out, had fun, pushed the other to be their best. Love ran so deep and intensely, it was warm and healing inside, and no one wished to pressure something so precious and break it, even less with how many times their hearts had broken. Now they seemed able to beat again.

During Christmas, Robin was so crestfallen she didn't wish to go home and be the recipient of all the pity sad looks, and Strike called Cornwall and informed he'd stay in London and go home when Robin felt better; that maybe he'd bring her, that he wanted to make her company, that the year had been emotionally extenuating with Laing and all, and everything they wished for was some alone time and calmness watching the snow fall through the window.

Robin was staying at Strike's, after a short period living at the Herberts, and after a grew meal Strike had made to cheer her up, they had snuggled up sitting in bed, cuddled with blankets and staring at the snow through the window. Most of their moments were spent like that, in silence. Words just seemed unnecessary, even less when, as detectives, they read the other so well. They had been together for almost two months and that had also deepened and improved their ability to feel each other's thoughts.

Robin was starting to feel overwhelmed, surrounded by Strike's warmth as he hugged her, stroking her back and, every now and then, pressing almost unnoticeable kisses against the top of her head. He had been reading her poetry; sometimes he wrote her a verse, here and there. Apparently, Charlotte had found that laughable; Robin felt herself shear tears of love and joy every time. Sometimes, Strike sang, very softly, very deeply, some lullaby, often in French or German, languages he was fluent at. Robin realised he was singing ever so quietly now, feeling her getting emotional, as he often did to comfort her, and that was part of the reason she was getting emotional. She just felt overwhelmed with warmth, joy, love. All the subtle ways in which Strike loved her from inside out, without a need for expensive gifts, made her feel she could explode.

Feeling her eyes teary, Robin looked up at caressed Strike's stubbly face between her hands. She was smiling and looking at him with such intensity, trying to make him understand how much she loved him, how thankful she was for her rock, her partner, her best friend, that he felt shy and adorably blushed, looking down and kissing her hands timidly, making her grin. Slowly, she lifted her face and her silky lips pressed against his surprisingly soft ones.

Strike's kisses felt warm, deep, electrical, like kissing a lightning. Robin's felt burning, sweet and almost timid. He often kept things slow and soft. She often pushed to disrupt his equilibrium with such kissing skills that made him want to fuck her senseless. But he always resisted. She was a soft flower who had been ripped, and he refuses to harm her. In some way, Strike and Robin were also discovering that sometimes, when things aren't so sexual, you reach a bigger, incredible, super intense level of connection, knowledge, feelings, comfort. You become one in the inside, in the sweetest of ways. You connect in ways sex cannot give.

But now, Robin felt it was time. She felt she wanted to have Strike's warmth all over her, their skins touching, their lips all over. She wanted to love every inch of him. They had started reaching their depths, loving and conquering each other's chores, and now the love extended, conquering to the surface, skin level, and their bodies yearned to connect.

The kiss heated and intensified and a quick look from Robin was enough to assure Strike this was what she wanted. Then, shirts and bras fell, and when Robin was quickly going to unbutton his trousers, he stopped, and dark, warm eyes, met sweet, ocean ones with worry and brightness.

"What do you want to do?" His voice sounded soft and concerned and Robin just wanted him more.

"I want us to make love, if you're ready," came her honest response, followed by intense blushing.

"I want that too," Strike smiled softly. "Are you sure is the right moment, though? We don't have to do it."

"I'm sure. This is what I want."

Robin's resolve was the same shown all those times she wanted to be his partner. Strike only had to look at her to know she truly wanted this.

"Alright," Strike accepted. "But whenever you want, we will stop. You have the right to change your mind, and I promise you, even if it's in the middle of it all, if you say no, I will retire. It doesn't matter how far we've gotten; I will separate, I swear."

Strike was looking at her with such worry and love that she really felt burning inside. She loved him and his consideration so much, and cupping his face, she just grinned.

"I love you so much." She confessed, red as a tomato. Strike suddenly beamed proudly.

"God, Robin," he breathed out. "I'm so in love with you too. You're all the reasons my life is perfect and our business is a complete success. You're extraordinary." Robin let out a sob.

"Only because you believed I was, and helped me bloom. You're the most wonderful person I know," Robin sniffled. "And you love me sp much I just feel at the top of the world every moment. You lift me up, Cormoran."

Strike cleaned the tears off her cheeks and brought her face in to kiss her. Actions would have to do the job of the words he didn't have the skills to form.

Slowly, both became nude under the sheets of Strike's bed. After taking a moment to admire each other's beauty, Strike cupped her breasts with care and delicacy, not in the obscene, savage way Matthew had. Robin almost cried again when she saw him pressing hundreds of soft kisses over her breasts, caressing them lovingly, lapping pm her nipples. She had never felt those thing and was soon moaning, urging Strike to be more intense in his administrations, to suck his nipples and squeeze her boobs a little. Slowly, his lips trailed down to the bath of brown-strawberry blonde hair between her legs, and Robin stopped him.

"You don't have to. Matthew told me it was disgusting."

Strike looked puzzled.

"Disgusting? What's more pleasing than having a woman moaning under you just because you're skilled? Love, nothing about you can ever be disgusting," he kissed her reassuringly. Insecure, she looked a bit anxious.

"What if I don't like sucking...?"

Strike smiled finding her adorable.

"That's different. You don't have to have something like that poking your throat, I can understand that the feeling isn't so nice. I'm happy as long as you get as many orgasms as possible."

Robin forgot her shyness and suddenly yelled when Strike's fingers parted her inferior los and she licked her entrance. She gripped his hair as he lapped her juices with intensity, his lips sometimes sucking her clit, his tongue, pressuring in the tiny hole. At one point, one of his hands fondled his breasts while he sucked her clit and a long, thick, calloused finger, slowly made its way inside, stroking her velvet walls and making her shiver and moan loudly. She had never considered herself loud in bed and now her nails scratched Strike's broad, muscled, hair covered back. She buckled her hips against his mouth with insistence, and he was soon introducing a second finger. Robin never even noticed she was cumming until she felt completely soaked and her entire body tingled. Her throat felt hoarse and she realised she had shouted while cumming.

Strike went on to put a condom and grab a bottle of lube from his nightstand, while looking at Robin, who recovered from her intense orgasm lying on bed, her hair a mess of fire over the pillows, blush covering the freckles of her face, eyes closed, lips separated, reddened and swollen. Her hands rested on the mattress, her nipples pointed to the ceiling surrounded by freckles, crowning small mountains. Her legs were sprawled open and her vaginal lips reddened and parted, leaking. Robin's eyes on popped open darkened with desire as she stared at his unruly curls, his bearded face, his strong, muscular body, enormous against hers. Their lips met with passion, attracted by an invisible magnetism, colliding time after time.

As Strike pulled apart, Robin looked down. Strike's member was proportionally enormous to the rest of him and Robin had never seen one so long, so wide, and so hard for her, standing proudly.

"Oh... Will you be careful?" Strike understood she was sincerely worried he'll break her open.

"Of course. You be on top; if you don't want it all, or just the tip, or nothing, you control it."

Robin har never been on top and she was nervous, clumsy as she moved to straddle him. She tentatively touched Strike's cock, feeling it respond and hearing Strike make an unknown, throaty sound as his eyes darkened. Strike let a good amount of lube fall on his cock, and Robin spread it thoroughly. Then, he filled his hand with it, and rubbed Robin's pussy, penetrating her with two lubed fingers he opened and closed like scissors, and Robin was coming again before she could stop herself, falling on him with Strike's member between their bellies. Strike kissed and caressed her as she recovered and then, she positioned his tip against her entrance.

Strike helped her and Robin supported with a hand on his chest and one on his dick as his spongy tip pressed against her entrance. Seeing there was some difficulty, Strike sat up and sucked on her nipples. Robin let out a strangled scream and the head of his cock came inside.

It took a lot of time, as Strike touched her everywhere, and whispered comforting and encouraging words as they moaned and Robin slowly accepted more of him inside.

"Oh God... You're stretching me so much...!" Robin moaned hotly. It sometimes was too much and she had to stop, but she was liking a slight amount of pain as she was stretched so much.

"You feel so good Robin... You're squeezing me so much..." Strike assaulted her lips and breasts, keeping her distracted until she was sitting on him without noticing. She had all of his inches inside, and could feel his warm, soft balls against the crack of her arse.

She started bouncing up and down, with Strike's help, and they both groaned and moaned, as she moved faster and deeper. When she was getting tired. Strike rolled on top of her.

"Fuck me like you mean it," said Robin holding onto his face before kissing him passionately.

And then he was mercilessly hammering into her, pounding like a mountain, and she was screaming. The bed moved as his hot rod opened her up time after time, her legs wrapped around his lips and her nipples pressed against his chest. Sweat swam down their bodies as the snow fell outside, and then, with a long groan and a feeling of their bodies losing themselves, they came together.


End file.
